Queen Of Blood and Ash

My unblinking eyes stared at my father. He wasn't the only one in the room. There were men dressed in suit. They smelled like money and gun oil. I looked like a bride, but l didn't feel like one. Everyone and everything looked like war. This place wasn't a happy one—l knew it, and the only one who could give me the answers l needed was the man whose DNA l shared. "They said this wedding was necessary." My voice barely carried past the closed doors, cos they felt too heavy enough to bruise my failing heart. "They said it was protection." I continued, struggling to hold back tears. "They said it was strategy—They said it was the only way." My head, bent low. Tears flowed freely now. "It's funny how there's always only one way when it costs me." No one answered. Alessandro Moretti— My father, stood beside me. Immaculate as ever. Perfect suit. Perfect posture. His hands folded, as if a silent prayer might still work on him. His gaze fixed straight ahead, past the far wall from where we stood. His eyes never left it, like the truth, might be written there if he stared long enough at it. " You are not denying it," l said quietly. My voice breaking in between. He shifted—Just once. His fingers tugged at his cufflinks. Metal clicked against metal. "There's nothing to deny." He said suddenly. His dark eyes, still straight. Something inside my chest buckled. I dragged air hurriedly like my life depended on it. "So it's true." "It's decided." He responded hastily. . I let out a laugh too quickly before l could stop it. Thin. Sharp. Ugly. Not humor—Shock! "God!" I sighed heavily, sliding a hand down my face. "You didn't even try lying, Father. No story. Or explanations. Not even a reassurance. You—You just decided." "This isn't the time to—" "When is it?" I cut in, my voice slicing through his. "When you taught me how to pour wine without listening? When you told me silence was a skill, not a wound?" I stepped closer, my pulse racing rapidly. "When you said, watch and survive?" His jaw flexed. Once. Twice. "You promised me Father," l said rather slowly, wishing l had the courage to punch him right through his face, and still feel good afterwards, but l couldn't, and it was the crack in me, l wish l never had. "You said l won't be traded like territory." "I promised you safety, Isabella!" He sounded broken—An emotion, l completely ignored. Turning fully towards him, l said. "Say that again. Look at me Father, and say this is safety." He couldn't. "This is survival," he said instead. "For who?" "For us." I shook my head slowly. "No. Don't do that. Don't fold me into it. This is for you." The Chapel doors creaked open before he could answer. Light spilled across the marble floor. Incense filled the air and burned the back of my throat. There were murmurs; and the air was dreary, still l inhaled a puff of it. I swallowed hard. My hands were shaking, whitened carefully around my father's arm. "Father!" I said suddenly."They don't take brides." Alessandro stepped forward, forcing me to move with him. " The Lucchese Syndicate takes leverage," l whispered. "Say it." "Yes." My voice dropped. "So l'm leverage." "You're a bridge." I stopped walking. He had to stop with me. His words were cold and mean. My throat tightened a little hard. "Bridges get walked on, Father, please." I pleaded with every strength in me. "They get burned, then collapse. I finished, feeling exasperated. My head ached badly. "They hold," he said too quickly, "or everything falls apart." Music began, playing softly. My father leaned down, and pressed a kiss to my forehead. It was too gentle. Too final. Too late too. I didn't look at him again. When l reached the altar, the man waiting hadn't bothered to turn around. "Matteo De Luca," the Priest announced. Only then did he lift his head. His gaze landed on me like a blade—Cold. Assessing. Stripped of curiosity. No smile. No frown. Just caculation. I drew a ragged breath. Why couldn't l run away from here? From my father, from this mean man, and the deal they had over me? I pondered breathlessly. I bit my lips, wanting to cry out in anguish. But to whom? It was useless, cos no one cared what happened to me. "Isabella Moretti"—The Priest's voice, snapped me back to the present. "I'm here." I murmured faintly, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. "She's ready." Matteo said calmly, before anyone asked. The unwelcome thought, l was about to be married off to a beast, lanced my head with pain. I shut my eyes, willing myself to obliterate the imagination of life with him, swept over me. My fingers twitched at my sides. The vows blurred. Words like humor, and union, flattened into what sounded like business terms. Assets. Losses. Risk. "Do you accept —" "Yes," Matteo said, cutting the Priest off. "And You—" "Yes!" I echoed. A fraction too fast. Matteo took my hand. His grip was firm. Exact. No warmth. No hestitation. "You understand what this is," he murmured, lips barely moving. "Yes." "No fantasies?" He asked smugly. "No expectations?" Matteo saw my expression alter subtly, and he knew he was cutting into me, little by little, deeper, and deeper. I swallowed hard, wincing inwardly at his mean sarcasm. "None." I whispered gently. "Good", he said softly. "Ilusions get people killed." He finished finally. The Priest cleared his throat. "You may—" Matteo let go before the sentence finished. He had become my husband. I had become his bride—For blood. The room exhaled. Applause followed. Too loud. Too relieved. I didn't clap. At the reception, voices circled me like smoke. A man leaned towards Matteo. "The alliance is…appreciated." Matteo didn't look at him. "Appreciation isn't necessary." A pause. "Then what is?" "Obedience." The man nodded too quickly and disappeared. I gritted my teeth hastily, leaning closer to him, l whispered brokenly. "Do they all fear you like that?" "They fear chaos," Matteo blurted arrogantly. "I prevent it." "And me?" I asked—filled with hopelessness by my fate to him. "What am l preventing?" He glanced at me. "So, l'm a delay?" "You're a reminder," he said flatly. "That blood always costs something." My stomach tightened. This was not the kind of response l expected. Maetto was more fiery than l assumed. "And when they forget?" "They won't", he said hurriedly. His hand running through his hair in quick rhythm. "Not while you're breathing." The gates of the De Luca's estate, slammed shut, behind them, with a metallic finality. Inside the house— "This is your room, Maetto said, opening a door. I stepped inside—slowly, scanning the luxury furnished space, too large for a room, for one. "And yours?" "Elsewhere." I turned sharply. "You are not staying?" "No." "Why?" "Because this isn't a marriage, he said flatly. "It's a ceasefire." I gave a rueful laugh, locking my eyes in his, unsure of how to respond. "And when the ceasefire breaks?" His eyes hardened. "Then the city burns." His voice was firm, yet carefree. Maetto stepped back briefly. "You'll be safe, as long as you remember who owns these walls." "And me." I completed. There was a long pause Just long enough to hurt. He looked like he had been briused, somewhere around his head. "Everyone would die, if you weren't here. Maetto left. The door closed. Soft. Final. I stood alone. Exhaled shakily, and crossed to the bed. Then l froze. On the pillow was folded note, which wasn't mine There were three words written in black ink Bridges Collapse First. I held my breath a little longer than l should. From somewhere down the hall, a door shut. I heard a voice—hushed, unusual. 'Keep her alive", it said. Another voice, lower than the first said, "Until she isn't useful anymore." I sat down on the edge of the bed—rasped. My eyes burning with tears, burying my face in my hands—Why did l let this happen? I wasn't a bride. Nor a wife. But a simple countdown, waiting to begin.